


Against the dying of the light

by bangyababy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Crucio), A wild ride of emotions and feelings, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Gratuitous usage of motifs, Humor, M/M, Magical Creatures, Magical Theory, Nightmares, Panic Attack, Psychological Torture, Sharing a Bed, Slow Romance, Torture, ptsd mention, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangyababy/pseuds/bangyababy
Summary: The Rage is a rare dark creature that feeds off of its victims deepest fears. When Harry discovers one is attached to Draco Malfoy, he refuses to leave his side until they can defeat it, even if that means facing the Rage himself.





	Against the dying of the light

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost thanks to the mods for dealing with me and hosting this. Second, huge thanks to Hailun for the alpha and Maesterchill for the beta. The title and "The Peaches" are both from works by Dylan Thomas ("Do not go gentle into that good night" and Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog, respectively). 
> 
> This was for prompt #57 and it's my first foray into this genre, so hopefully, it turned out okay!

The sun was setting when Harry arrived at Malfoy Manor. The dimness of the evening only added to the heaviness in his stomach which had been there ever since Robards had put him in charge of this case. A house-elf had died at the manor and, thanks to new regulations on all magical creatures (which had started a whole other argument because now they were tagging certain creatures), Harry was obligated to treat the death with due diligence. 

Harry really hadn’t wanted to be the one to do this. Malfoy and he weren’t exactly friends, and Harry hadn’t quite gotten around to returning Malfoy’s wand even though it had been nearly a decade. It wasn’t as if they ran in the same circles. Harry had only kept close to people he had been close with in Hogwarts. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to know everyone Harry didn’t care to. 

Of course, they ran into each other from time to time. Malfoy was a prominent potioneer and he was invited to some of the same functions Harry was forced to attend. They’d spoken on occasion but each time Harry was left with a stinging disappointment that Malfoy hadn’t changed at all. The look on Malfoy’s face during these interactions, as if he’d eaten a handful of coriander, told him the feeling was mutual. So, he was fully prepared for Malfoy to be averse to his being the one to process the death. 

What he wasn’t expecting was the look of terror on Malfoy’s face through the sliver of the open door.  

“Hello, Malfoy,” Harry said as evenly as he could manage. “It’s been a while.” 

Malfoy said nothing, he seemed to be waiting for something. After a few moments, his expression waned, and he reached out, letting his fingers graze Harry’s robes. At the touch, he sucked in a hard breath and put his whole hand over Harry’s heart.

“Real,” he whispered. Then his hand snapped back inside. 

“Malfoy, are you feeling alright?” 

“Why are you here?” Malfoy’s voice sounded as if he hadn’t used it in a while, or perhaps he’d been using it too much.  

“Your house elf died?” Harry knitted his brows together. “We sent an owl.”

“No owls,” Malfoy replied quickly, looking behind Harry to the empty drive. “Is there anyone else?’

“No.” Harry had just managed to get the word out when Malfoy shoved him back. 

“You have to leave.”

Malfoy was already closing the door when Harry recovered himself. “Malfoy, stop.” Harry put his foot in front of the door. “I have to see to the house elf.”

“Why?” Malfoy’s face was hard, but his eyes were still too wide. 

Harry snorted. “Other than the fact that it’s the law? You’re acting really guiltily.” 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “You think I would kill a house elf? You think I  _ could  _ kill a house elf?”

“I don’t know what to think, Malfoy, because you haven’t let me in.”

Malfoy stood back and Harry finally got a good look at him. He was as thin as he was during sixth year, his hair falling limply from his head, and even in the dimness of the entrance hall Harry could see the dryness of his skin. While there were bags under his eyes, the eyes themselves remained bright and alert. 

“Then come in,” Malfoy told him. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” But Malfoy was already moving, the line of his back so straight that Harry bet if he touched him he’d break. 

Malfoy was silent as they walked and Harry wondered if he could feel the sudden chill. 

“She’s there,” Malfoy said, pointing to a door, but staring at the floor. 

Harry nodded, opened the door, and almost threw up at the sight in the open room. The elf was lying in a pool of blood, open wounds crisscrossing her body, the flesh peeling back far enough to reveal bone. 

Harry was in the bathroom again, and it was Malfoy on the floor. The ringing in his ears was filling up his lungs and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t watch Malfoy bleed out on this cold floor he had to get help. 

When he turned Malfoy was standing there, eyes still trained on his shoes. Harry glanced back at the elf to be sure. 

He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming behind his eyes. “What happened?” 

“The rage,” Malfoy whispered, his cheeks were turning red and he still wouldn’t look at Harry. 

“Rage?” Harry bit out. “So you killed a house elf? And clearly, you’re using dark magic again.” 

Malfoy finally looked up and Harry had to take a step back as a wave of magic rolled off of him. 

“No, you gormless twat,” Malfoy spat. “The  _ Rage _ . Don’t you fucking know anything?” There was a creaking sound down the hall and Malfoy froze. 

“Malfoy?” Harry felt like he should be whispering. 

“You have to leave,” Malfoy hissed, eyes wide like when he had opened the door. He took Harry’s wrist and pulled him back in the direction of the door. “You can’t be here.” He kept saying over and over. 

“Malfoy, what's going on?” Harry demanded. “You’re going to break my wrist.” Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy was actually this strong or if it was the adrenaline high that he was clearly experiencing.  

“I’ve already told you, Potter, it’s the Rage, and you can’t be here.” Malfoy opened the door and pushed him out. “Just go!” 

The door shut before Harry could say anything else. He tried to open it, but as soon as he touched the handle he was pushed back in the drive. 

Harry took out his wand and sent a Patronus to Hermione. A few moments later, there was a crack and Hermione was running up the drive toward Harry, wild-eyed and already yelling. She threw her arms around him as soon as she was close enough. 

“I’m fine Hermione, but I don’t think Malfoy is,” Harry told her hair. He pulled back to look at her. “Do you know what ‘The Rage’ is?” Hermione nodded, but Harry saw her hesitate. “What is it?”

“It’s just,” she took a deep breath. “Do you know what an obscurus is?”

“Sort of? Like a magical kid turns into a demon thing because they’re being repressed?”

“Okay, well, close enough. The Rage is similar and just as rare. They’re essentially a Dementor and Boggart mixed into one. They feed off their victims’ worst memories and fears. It’s like having a nightmare when you’re awake.” 

“But why is it here?” 

Hermione shuffled her feet. “They can sometimes manifest in old houses with a lot of animosity or in places like mental hospitals. But usually, they appear when a wizard doesn’t have an outlet.” 

“You mean like for their feelings?” Harry scrunched up his nose. 

“That’s part of it. Also when their magic isn’t being fully utilised,” Hermione said eyes trained on Harry. Harry realised he she was waiting for a reaction, but he couldn’t quite figure out why.

When the meaning of her words finally clicked and Harry took hold of her arms. “This is my fault.” 

“Harry, no,” Hermione soothed. “I’m sure Malfoy has another wand by now, and besides it’s not like he ever asked for his old one back.”

“No, Hermione you don’t understand.” Harry pulled away and stared up at the Manor. “The reason I’m here, the house elf that died…it was like sectumsempra.” He turned back to look at her. “Can it hurt people?”

“I-I’m not sure, actually, there’s been so few cases and mostly it’s just old wives tales, meant to scare children, but it makes more sense that the Rage did it rather than Malfoy.” 

Harry was already heading back toward the door by the time she finished her sentence. “Hermione, can you go back to my place and get Malfoy’s old wand?” 

“Yes, but Harry,” she pulled him back. “What do you plan to do here? Just give him his wand and go?”

“Hermione…”

“Exactly,” she said nodding. “Harry, I know you’re not going to listen to me, but this isn’t your fault and you don’t need to save him. This is something an Unspeakable should be doing or a curse breaker. You don’t know what you’re up against. I mean  _ I  _ don’t know what you’re up against.”

Harry chuckled with forced humor. “When have I ever let that stop me?” He turned back to the door and cast a Sonorous, yelling for Malfoy to let him. Behind him, Hermione disappeared with a crack. 

If he had just given Malfoy his wand back, maybe this wouldn’t be happening. How long had Malfoy been living like this? Unsure what was real or a nightmare, so high-strung that his body moved as if it were made of rusted metal and sun-blanched paper instead of flesh and bone. Terrified. Harry remembered what it was like to live like that. Sacred every day never knowing when or if the end was coming. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all Draco Malfoy. 

He was still banging on the door when Hermione returned. 

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry murmured, taking the wand.

“What should I tell Ron?” 

“The truth. I know he won’t be happy, and tell him I’m sorry but I need to do this.” 

Hermione sighed. “Alright. But you need to be careful. This thing won’t limit itself to just Malfoy.”

Harry remembered seeing Malfoy on the floor instead of the elf. “I know.” He took out a notepad and scrawled a note to Robards. “I’ll tell work I’m off sick, but that I already checked everything out here and will do the paperwork when I get back.” 

“Great plan, Harry, make sure no one who could help comes looking for you.”

“Not until Friday at least.” Harry gave her a grin.

She rolled her eyes and took the note from Harry to post. “I’ll be researching. I’ll only send a Patronus if necessary.” 

Harry nodded. “Thanks, ’Mione you’re the best.”

Hermione gave a put-upon sigh and said, “It’s hard being so amazing all the time.” 

They laughed and Harry pulled her into a hug. “Seriously, thank you Hermione.” 

“Anytime, Harry,” she whispered. She pulled away to look him in the eye. “Remember it’s not real, and that if you get hurt, I’ll kill you.” 

“I’ll remember,” he chuckled. 

“Be good!” She told him, just before she apparated from sight. 

Harry looked at the spot where she had been standing and reined in his breathing. Once he was ready he turned back towards the front door and took out Malfoy’s wand. 

A little trick he had learned in the Aurors was how to bypass most wards. However, when it came to homes like the Manor with hundreds of years of magic weaved into them, it was always harder. But having Malfoy’s wand should help. 

The wards of the manor were unsurprisingly tight and he was running through his third series of spell-work when the door swung open. He slipped Malfoy’s wand up his sleeve before Malfoy could see it. 

“You’re shaking the whole house! What part of ‘go away’ did you misunderstand?”

“The away part,” Harry answered and Malfoy rolled his eyes. 

“Granger’s gone and told you what it is, then?” Harry nodded. “And you’re not going to leave because some mutation in your DNA makes you incapable of letting sleeping hippogriffs lie.” Harry nodded again and Malfoy let out a sigh. “I suppose you might as well come in before you knock my house down with whatever it is you’re trying to do.” 

Malfoy stepped back and gestured for Harry to enter. Harry noticed he didn’t look happy about it, but there was a tension visibly draining from his shoulders. 

They were once again silent as Malfoy led them down a separate corridor to a part of the manor that Harry had never seen before, not that he was overly familiar with the house in the first place. 

They entered a large library with a table in the middle covered with books and parchment. Broken quills littered the floor and there were several ink stains on the ancient looking rug. There was a large bay window with the curtains drawn and two large armchairs on either side of it, also covered in books. Every other wall was floor to ceiling bookshelves. Hermione would have loved it. 

“Sorry about the mess,” Malfoy murmured, moving books from one of the chairs at the table to another. “Wasn’t exactly expecting company.”

“What about the other house elves?” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. 

Malfoy stiffened before jerkily setting down the books he was holding. “There  _ are  _ no others. Twiggy was the last one.” Harry couldn’t see Malfoy’s face, but his voice was tight. “She wouldn’t leave.” 

“What do you mean you she wouldn’t leave?”

Malfoy whipped around, face hard. “What do you think I mean, Potter? I set them free and she wouldn’t go!” 

“Malfoy, I-”

“Never mind, Potty, I’m going to get some tea. Why don’t you start reading  _ Myths of Creatures _ if you intend to stay. Though I doubt you’ll even understand it.” He shoved the book into Harry’s arms and stormed out of the room. 

Harry huffed and cleared a space at the table. He knew that he was being insensitive, because clearly Malfoy was going through something, but did he have to be such an arse about everything? Harry was just trying to help. 

When Malfoy returned, Harry was so engrossed in  _ Myths of Creatures _ he didn’t even notice the tea set beside him until long after it had gone cold. 

  
  


—

“Can you cast a Patronus?” Harry asked when he had finished reading the section on the Rage in  _ Myths of Creatures _ . 

“What an incredibly invasive and presumptuous question.” Malfoy hadn’t even looked up from his book. 

Harry huffed and crossed his arms. “How is that invasive or presumptuous? You’re being tortured by Dementor on steroids, and a Patronus gets rid of a Dementor.” 

“What are steroids?” Malfoy scratched something down on a parchment. 

“Like a potion, you take to make your muscles bigger,” Harry explained. 

“That’s actually quite clever, Potter, colour me surprised.” 

“Malfoy.” Harry took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Malfoy set down his quill and looked up at Harry. “It’s invasive because you are essentially asking if I’m a good enough person to produce a Patronus and it’s presumptuous because you’re not sure that I’m a good enough person to produce a Patronus.” 

“Jesus, Malfoy, does everything have to be an attack on your honor?”

“With you? Yes.” Malfoy went back to his book. 

“Fuck!” Harry jumped up but was quickly pulled back down. 

“Stop it, Potter,” he hissed, panic already pooling in his eyes. “Didn’t you learn  _ anything _ from that book?” 

The Rage was called out by negative emotions. Anger, pain, sadness, frustration, the stronger a person felt them, the quicker the Rage came. Harry had the decency to blush. “Sorry,” he whispered. 

They both took a few calming breaths until Malfoy realised he was still holding Harry’s arm. He snatched it away, and then they both were forced to take a few more breaths, but Harry couldn’t figure out exactly why. 

“A Patronus won’t work,” Malfoy said after a while. 

“You’ve tried?” Harry kept his tone light. 

Malfoy shook his head. “In theory, it should work. A light to drown out the dark, and yes a Patronus can ward of the Rage for a little while, but it will come back.”

“So you need something more powerful,” Harry filled in. “Do you think more than one Patronus could work?” 

Malfoy let out a frustrated noise. “You’re not listening. The Rage is different from a Dementor or a Lethifold. The Rage is specific to a person or a place. It feeds on the darkness of a certain target. A bad memory can never be fully erased, the impression itself will always linger. So, the Rage will always have something to come back to.” 

A chill went down his spine as a thought struck. “Malfoy…have you tried to erase bad memories.” 

Malfoy looked away, eyes steely. “When it first came, I tried to erase something small. Just the first time I remember Mother being disappointed in me. I had eaten several biscuits before dinner and when she asked me about it, I lied. Even though I had erased the memory, when I went to the kitchens the Rage was waiting. And it brought it back.” 

So, the Rage was attached to Malfoy and not the house. Harry thought as much, but the confirmation was helpful.

“I can’t believe you Obliviated yourself.” Harry wanted to say more but for once in his life, he was able to catch his mouth before it ran away from him. But when he saw the look Malfoy was giving him he hurried to avoid an argument. “I mean it’s reckless, but it’s also pretty brave?” 

Malfoy snorted. “Unforgivably Gryffindor-esque is more like it.” Harry couldn’t help but grin at that. “But obviously I never tried again.”

They were quiet for so long that Malfoy turned back to his book. “Why don’t you look through some spell theory. You’re an Auror so you can’t be absolutely terrible at defensive charms. Maybe you can find something.” He gestured absently to a bookcase to his right. 

Harry went the shelf and began to browse the titles, recognising far fewer than he felt he ought to. This was more Hermione’s area of expertise. He was more of a practical application kind of guy. He was sure she was already at home surrounded by as many books as Malfoy was researching. He wondered if she had told Ron yet. 

Robards hadn’t contacted him yet, so it was safe to assume his note had been taken at face value. Unless there was a team of Aurors outside of the wards that Harry didn’t know about. 

Harry grabbed a book at random and went to sit back down next to Malfoy. “You know it might help if you told me what you have tried to get rid of this thing.” 

“Basically every spell known to wizard-kind.” 

“Not exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” Harry admitted. “So what are you researching now?” 

“Magical rituals. Though most of these are to ward off potential dark creatures. Not ones that are already here.” 

Harry nodded. “How have you been dealing with it when you encounter it?” 

Malfoy shifted in his seat. “Not well.” 

Harry reeled back a bit to look at Malfoy’s unwavering profile. “You mean you just ride it out.” 

“Not much else I can do.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he opened the book and began reading about the theory of defensive spells. It wasn’t something he was entirely unfamiliar with, but he’d never read a book this advanced so it took a lot of his concentration. As the night wore on Malfoy became increasingly agitated. 

When the clock struck two, Malfoy came out of his chair as if he had been hexed and began bustling about the room. 

“How long are you planning to stay?” Harry blinked up at him in confusion. “It’s two in the morning, Potter, don’t you have somewhere to be tomorrow?”

“I took off work for a few days,” Harry explained. 

Malfoy whipped around to face him. “What?”

“Told them I was ill and that I wasn’t going to be in for a few days.” 

“You mean to stay here?” Draco’s eyebrows disappeared behind his hair. 

“What, don’t tell me you’re all booked up.”

“Potter, are you insane? You can’t just stay here with the Rage about. It’ll attack you too.”

“I know.”

Malfoy scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. “Why are you like this, Potter?”

“Traumatic childhood,” Harry answered with false cheer. “If you want to go to sleep, go ahead. I can fend for myself.”

“I don’t.”

“What?” 

“I don’t sleep, Potter. I…can’t.” Malfoy came back to sit down in the chair next to Harry. 

“For how long?” Harry asked in a hushed voice. 

“Two, three weeks? A month? A year? Who knows.” His laugh was just this side of hysterical. “If I’m awake maybe it won’t come, but if I sleep it will definitely come.”

“How have you been staying awake?” 

“Coffee and Pepper-Up Potion, mainly. Sometimes, I do go to sleep, and just let it come. It’ll usually leave me alone for a while after the first terror.” 

Harry felt the air leave his lungs. How could Malfoy be living like this? His reality was a nightmare and his nightmares were reality. There was nowhere safe for him. No one here with him. Harry doubted he had told anyone what was going on. Harry knew Narcissa had gone to the continent until Lucius was released from Azkaban, but if she knew what was going on here, Harry couldn’t imagine her not being here with Malfoy. 

Malfoy was talking again, but Harry had missed it. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned to him. “I said, you should go home and get some sleep. I’m not sure what will happen if you sleep here. No reason the both of us should be sleep-deprived and anxious.”

“That’s alright,” Harry told him quickly. “I’m used to staying up on a case. This way we can keep each other awake.”

Malfoy nodded at him and went back to reading. They spent the rest of the night in relative silence, only speaking to ask for coffee or parchment. It was quiet in the house, but as the sun rose and heated the room, Harry couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being cold.

—

“Potter, you can’t AK a dark creature!” Malfoy groaned into his hands. 

“Why not?” Harry crossed his arms and looked at Malfoy defiantly. 

“It’s not a mortal being, for one, and also it’s kind of designed to be indestructible.” 

“Nothing is indestructible,” Harry shot back. “Have you tried to AK it before?”

“Of course not, Potter, because I’m not a reckless idiot!” Malfoy jumped up, eyes bloodshot with fear and anger.

Harry was on his feet just as quick. “Hey! I’m just trying to help here!” 

“Well, who asked you to?” A wave of Malfoy’s magic pushed Harry back into the chair. “Let’s pretend to be honest for just one second. The only reason you’re here is to ease your conscience, not because you care about what happens to me.” 

“Ease my conscience? I just want to  _ help,  _ seeing as you can’t do this yourself!” Harry was breathing so hard they didn’t hear the creaking behind him. 

“You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you? That you can do things out of the goodness of your heart and not because you think you’re somehow responsible for this because you took my wand.” 

Harry barked a laugh at him. “I used that wand to defeat Voldemort. You didn’t deserve that wand!”

Malfoy stilled and Harry felt something tighten around his throat. Malfoy’s arms were at his side, but given his inability to contain his magic, that didn’t mean it wasn’t him. Harry clawed at his throat and Malfoy’s eyes widened, taking a step back, but arms outreached. The pressure released and Malfoy pulled Harry behind him. 

When Harry turned around a figure was there, hovering just above the ground. Its skin was sickly grey and so shiny it was almost as if it were oozing. Its head was just an outline, the only features on its “face” were two sunken in holes that served as eyes and a long slit for a mouth that curled back like dead leaves. 

Harry knew he should draw his wand, try to do anything to spell this thing away but he somehow couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

The thing shifted, its simple smock transformed into an elegant dress, its face melted into features, the room around them darkened even further, and suddenly Narcissa Malfoy was standing before them, Voldemort behind her with his wand to her neck. 

“You could have prevented this Draco,” Voldemort hissed. 

“I forgive you,” Narcissa told him, tears in her eyes. “I know you tried.”

“Please,” Malfoy whispered. “Please, I can do it, I promise, just-”

Voldemort bared his teeth and spoke the words without hesitation. Narcissa fell to the floor. 

“Mother!” Malfoy sank to his knees beside her and took her in his arms. “I’m sorry, I should have tried harder.

Voldemort rippled and changed back to the faceless thing. It stood behind Malfoy and his mother and held out a claw-like finger. A dark stream of something flowed from Malfoy to the finger, and Malfoy’s cries became all the more hysterical. 

Suddenly Harry snapped and cried out, “Malfoy!” He pulled Malfoy back, dragging Narcissa along with them. 

The faceless thing turned to Harry as if it was just noticing him. Its head cocked to one side, and there was the feeling of cold in Harry’s bones. It wavered and Voldemort was back. 

The room shifted, the bookshelves melding away and the chairs being replaced with graves. Malfoy was still clutching at Narcissa’s body, but beside them lay Cedric Diggory. 

“No,” Harry whispered. “This isn’t real.” 

Malfoy looked up, looked at Diggory’s body, at Voldemort with his wand pointed at Harry, at the masked Death Eaters in the graveyard. He let go of his mother’s body as if burned, but she still faced him. 

“It is a shame you couldn’t save him,” Voldemort said,  hand outstretched to Cedric. “It’s a shame you couldn’t save them.” Harry looked back at him and saw Hermione and Ron lying on top of each other, hard and unmoving.

“No,” he choked on the word. 

Malfoy turned from Harry, face scrunched in distress. Harry tried to reach out to Malfoy but his eyes fell on his mother’s face, but something was wrong. Narcissa seemed to deflate then, and Malfoy skittered back. He watched open mouthed as the skin melted off the tissue and the tissue off the bone until the bones turned to bubbling black slime. 

Harry felt a pull behind his belly button and Voldemort was there again. He just needed to get ahold of himself, this was all in his head he knew it was, but he couldn’t get it to  _ go _ . He pulled at his hair in frustration.

“Potter!” Malfoy shouted getting to his feet, but Harry didn’t hear him. 

“You can’t save any of them,” Voldemort laughed and every time Harry blinked a new body appeared on the ground. Sirius. Remus. Dumbledore. Arthur. Neville. Molly. Teddy. Malfoy.

But Malfoy was in front him, his eyes were alive and he was gripping Harry so hard he would bruise. “Potter,” he said. “It’s not real, it’s not real.” 

Voldemort was still laughing behind him. “You can’t save them!” 

“He’s right,” Harry whispered, tears flowing freely. “I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t.” 

“Potter, look at me!” 

Harry did. Malfoy shouldn’t be here. Harry shook his head, looked harder. Malfoy shouldn’t be  _ here _ . 

Their surroundings shifted again, the tombstones grew to tall trees and the grass beneath their knees changed to sticks.

“Harry Potter, the boy who lived, come to die.”

“I couldn’t save them!” Harry cried, pulling away from Malfoy. 

The creature was back and behind Harry, its long fingers almost brushing his skin. Harry felt the cold travel through him and out, the warmth returning to his blood. 

“You did save them,” Malfoy said forcing Harry to look at him, but Harry still didn’t see him. 

“This is where I die,” Harry whispered, closing his eyes. He remembered this part. He knew what came next and he was ready. He hoped Dumbledore was there again. 

“You saved me!” Malfoy shook him. “Harry, you saved me!” Harry opened his eyes, and Malfoy was so close even through his tears Harry could see the freckles littering his nose. Malfoy reached up and took Harry’s face in his hands. “You  _ can _ save me,” he whispered. 

Malfoy’s hands were so warm they were almost hot. He leaned into the touch, his hands coming up to cover Malfoy’s and he felt a burst of heat in his belly. Behind him, the creature reeled back with a high pitched noise and disappeared. 

They were still kneeling like that, long after the room returned to its original state. Neither of them knew what to do next, neither of them were willing to be the one to make the first move. 

Finally, Harry couldn’t stand it anymore and he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He withdrew his hands, but Malfoy held them fast. 

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Malfoy told him. “This really isn’t your fault.”

“It sort of is, but that’s not what I’m apologising for,” Harry replied, voice strained. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, I’m sorry I froze, I’m sorry I didn’t do anything, I’m sorry that you’ve been going through all of this alone, I’m sorry you had to…” he trailed off, unable to look Malfoy in the eye. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.” 

Malfoy pushed Harry hard, and Harry fell to his side and Malfoy to his hands and knees.  Malfoy got his feet before Harry could process what was happening. When he looked up, Malfoy was glaring down at him. 

“Stop it this instant, Potter,” he ground out. “You can’t expect to come in here wand blazing and stop one of the most elusive dark creatures on the planet and come away without a scratch. What it showed me…what it showed you was  _ intense.  _ We can’t have a pity party after every encounter, especially seeing as there is no reason you should be having a pity party. You did  _ fine _ .”

Malfoy was radiating heat and anger, but his magic stayed in. Harry wanted to tell him to calm down, afraid the Rage might return, but he couldn’t find the words, he could only stare at Malfoy as he spoke. 

“We can’t afford to spend all of our time apologising for stupid shit we’ve done. Whatever has happened, happened. And it’s in the past, and I’m over it. So I don’t need your apologies, I need you to be that stupidly brave Gryffindor with a hero complex we all know so well.” 

Malfoy offered a hand to Harry. “Can you do that?”

Harry nodded, took the hand, and let Malfoy pull him up. “I’m-”

“If you apologise again, I will hex you in the face, Potter.”

Harry gave a weak laugh, “Alright, Malfoy, you win.”

Outside the sun was setting, and Harry could feel the cold returning.

—

Malfoy explained that since the Rage had visited, they should be safe to sleep for a few hours, provided they took a Dreamless Sleep draught. 

“I think it would be safer if we slept in the same room,” Harry told him when Malfoy led him to a room near the library. 

Malfoy seemed too tired to argue, so he just followed Harry inside. “Can you transfigure the bed?” he asked. “I would do it myself, but I’m not the best with wandless transfiguration.” 

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking why he didn’t have a wand, instead he asked dumbly, “Into what?”  

Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes. “Into two.” 

Harry looked at the bed that could easily hold all of the Weasleys and then some. “Is that really necessary?”

“Whatever, Potter, just don’t hog the covers.” Malfoy raised his arm then and called out for the Dreamless Sleep. 

Harry was impressed by the control of the wandless magic, but even so, he could feel Malfoy’s wand burning into his skin where he’d stashed it up his sleeve. “You’re good at that.”

“It was a necessity,” Draco said plucking the potion from the air. 

“Why didn’t you get another wand?” Harry blurted before he could stop himself. 

“I never got around to it,” Malfoy said, monotone. 

Harry’s fingers itched to give him the wand, but he didn’t think now was the right time. Instead, he gratefully accepted the draught and slipped underneath the covers. Even though they were several feet apart, Harry could feel the warmth coming from Malfoy as they fell into sleep. 

—

When Harry woke he was almost hot. The curtains were open and the sun was shining in. It was just a little toasty under the covers, and he soon realised it was because his back was pressed flush against Malfoy’s. Even though they were both fully clothed, it felt as if he could feel Malfoy’s skin against his. 

As slowly as he could, Harry moved towards the edge of the bed, trying his best not to jostle the bed and wake Malfoy. 

“Potter.” Harry froze. “You hogged the covers.”

Harry chuckled, relieved this wasn’t going to be as awkward as it could have been and rolled so he was facing Malfoy’s back. “Sorry, Malfoy.” 

Malfoy stretched and rolled so he could face Harry as well, but kept his eyes closed. Harry noticed how much softer he looked, his hair sleep mussed, lips shiny from being licked, his eyelashes just kissing his cheeks. 

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t know that Malfoy was attractive. Aesthetically speaking, he was a treat to look at. It was just he was so…Malfoy. He wondered what Malfoy would do if he reached out and touched him, let his fingers run across the fullness of his bottom lip, would he pull away? Would he kiss the tip of his finger? Or maybe he would open his mouth, let Harry inside. 

“Potter, it would be great if you could stop staring at me.”

Harry had been so absorbed in imagining what his fingers might taste like to Malfoy he hadn’t even realised Malfoy had opened his eyes. 

“Oh, right, I was just thinking, you know, staring off into space, sorry.” He laughed nervously, hoping that Malfoy wasn’t very good at Legilimency. “Did you sleep alright?”

Malfoy blinked. “Yes, actually, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, it was fine…listen about yesterday-”

“Are you going to apologise again?” Malfoy scowled. “Because I don’t want to hear it.”

Harry shook his head. “I was wondering about something. When I first came to check on the house elf, when I went into the room, I felt like I was back in the toilets, when I-” he gestured to Malfoy’s chest. 

“When you almost murdered me?” Harry’s face must have shown his annoyance because Malfoy added, “I’m joking.” 

Harry relaxed a bit, but his words were still angry. “Listen, I know you said not to apologise, but I never really did apologise for that. So, can I?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I suppose.”

Harry was tempted to forget the whole thing. He hadn’t even wanted to have this conversation in the first place, and Malfoy was, as per usual, not making it any easier. It wasn’t like Malfoy hadn’t almost killed him before, either. He’d never apologised for that, so why should Harry apologise to him?

But then, Malfoy had never  _ truly _ set out to hurt Harry. It was usually just something taken too far, or something done to survive, and Harry could understand that. When Harry followed Malfoy into the bathroom, he hadn’t wanted to kill him, but he knew that sectumsempra wouldn’t have worked if he hadn’t meant it. 

And maybe he meant it then, in that moment, but he  _ had  _ regretted it as soon as he had spoken it. He could at least tell Malfoy that he did, even if he was a bastard about it. 

Harry took a deep breath and said as sincerely as he could, “I’m sorry I almost killed you.”

Malfoy looked at him for a long time, eyes unreadable. “I guess that makes us even,” Malfoy replied. “So what exactly were you wondering about?”

“Oh, right, just about the memories it chooses. You said it showed you a memory from when your mother was disappointed in you, but that’s really small in comparison to yesterday. So, are they random? One day something big the next small?”

Malfoy sat up quickly, throwing the covers off the bed. “I need to check something.” He hopped off the bed and Harry scrambled after him. 

“Malfoy, what’s wrong?” Harry asked trailing after him. They returned to the library and Malfoy began looking through a notebook. 

“I don’t know why I never realised it before,” Malfoy said, and Harry wasn’t sure who he was actually talking to. “I knew that the terrors would get more serious as time went on but…” He trailed off, flipping through the notebook. 

“What is that?” Harry asked. 

“It’s all the terrors it’s showed me. Yes, yes of course.” He threw the notebook down and grabbed Harry. “Potter, it never shows you the same terror.” 

“What?”

“It never shows you the same terror twice! It has a pattern. Do you know what that means?” Malfoy turned and began shuffling through books and notes.

“It can…run out of food, I guess?” 

“Exactly! Which means it will go looking for food. It means it  _ could  _ leave.” Malfoy’s voice had taken on that tinge of hysteria. “It  _ could leave _ .”  

“Wait, if that’s true, all we have to do is let ourselves be tormented for the unforeseeable future!” Harry said sarcastically. 

Malfoy huffed and turned to him. “ _ We _ don’t have to do anything. It’s not attached to you.”

“You think that I’m going to sit here and just watch you live in a walking nightmare? Have you met me, Malfoy?”

Malfoy shook his head, turning back to the table. “That’s not the point, Potter. The point is that this,” he threw his arms around at the disheveled room. “This has an end. I can end this.”  

Harry couldn’t argue with that. He understood all too well what it was like to live on the knife’s edge of fear, never knowing when or if it was going to end. It must be a relief to just find out it could. 

—

They spent the rest of the day researching, trying to figure out a way to show the Rage there was nothing left for it here. They ate their energy bars and drank their coffee and every once in awhile Malfoy would mutter quips to himself about something ridiculous he’d read, making Harry smile. Sometimes he would get so worked up about how ludicrous whatever he’d read was that he would say “Listen to this, Potter,” and then read a passage in his best posh voice and Harry would laugh. 

As the day wore on Malfoy became antsy again. His leg was bouncing up and down and he was constantly breaking quill nibs. 

“Want to hear a story?” Harry said out of the blue. 

Malfoy stopped writing, looked up at Harry as if he had just asked Malfoy to put on a dress and square dance. “What?”

“A story,” Harry said again, standing up and walking over to the section of fiction books. 

“Why on Earth would I want to hear a story, Potter? I’ve got work to do.”

“And you can do it,” Harry said, grabbing a book. “After you hear a story.” Malfoy watched him open-mouthed as he flipped the book open and began to read. “The Peaches.” 

“You’re really going to do this aren’t you?” Malfoy asked. 

“Sure am,” Harry affirmed. 

Malfoy set his quill down and stood up. “Might as well be comfortable then,” he replied resignation heavy in his voice. 

Harry grinned and followed him over to the two overstuffed armchairs in front of the window and began clearing it of books. On impulse, he opened the curtains to the window, casting a billow of dust into the room causing both he and Malfoy to cough and squint at the brightness at the same time. 

“Sorry,” Harry sputtered. 

“Oh, just get on with it,” Malfoy said, flopping less gracefully than Harry imagined he would into the chair. Harry could see he was trying not to smile. 

Harry sat down and began to read, “The grass-green cart, with ‘J. Jones, Grosehill’ painted shakily on tit, stopped in the cobblestone passage between ‘The Hare’s Foot’ and ‘The Purple Drop.’” 

When he finished the first section, he glanced up at Malfoy. Harry’s breath caught when he saw Malfoy staring, face open and body relaxed, staring out at the setting sun.

—

The Rage didn’t come that night, and as the sun rose, they were both a little on edge. For Malfoy, he couldn’t stand sitting; instead, he paced as he read. Harry kept shooting glances at the door as if a dark creature would be polite enough to knock. 

By the time the sun was well in the sky, Harry had had enough. 

“I have an idea,” Harry said. Malfoy didn’t look at him, but nodded for him to continue. “You’re probably not going to like it but…what if…what if we draw the Rage out?” 

Malfoy was quiet for so long, Harry thought perhaps he hadn’t heard him. He was about to repeat himself when Malfoy finally looked up. “That’s actually not the worst plan.” 

“So, how do you want to do this?” 

They discussed the logistics over a real breakfast, just scraps of what was left from Twiggy’s last shop. Harry cooked because he honestly didn’t trust Malfoy near the stove. 

“I’m not a simpleton, Potter, I’m pretty sure I could figure out how to make bacon,” he had grumbled. 

“Yes, but you see, I like my food edible,” Harry had shot back and Malfoy snorted. 

Harry found himself thinking that this Malfoy wasn’t so bad. This Malfoy was someone he could actually consider being friends with. 

“So,” Malfoy said, wiping his mouth and pulling Harry from his thoughts. “The simplest way to draw the Rage out will be if we have an argument.” 

“I guess, but won’t it know that we’re faking it?” Harry asked. 

“Somehow I feel like we could have an actual argument without much trouble.”

Harry rolled his eyes and continued to eat his toast. He shifted slightly and the chair beneath him creaked. Malfoy froze, a cup of coffee midway to his mouth. Harry reached for the cup and set it down before it could spill all over the table. 

“It’s alright, Malfoy,” he said quietly. “It was just the chair.”

Malfoy nodded jerkily and stood up, taking his plate and cup to the sink. 

Harry watched as the tension returned to Malfoy’s body, each step looking as if he had to consciously think about it, desperately trying to look normal. Harry realised Malfoy must have been putting on a show for Harry all this time. Trying to show him he wasn’t afraid, that he was fine, he could handle it. 

“Malfoy,” Harry began but Malfoy spoke before he could finish. 

“Get a move on, Potter. The sooner we start, the sooner it’ll be over.” Malfoy left the room without another look at Harry. 

Harry sighed into his toast and tried to pretend he was ready for the next few hours. 

When he went back into the library he saw Malfoy standing in front of the open window, arms across his chest, body stiff, but his hair was casting a soft glow around his head. Harry went to stand next to him without a word. 

“Do you think this will work?” Malfoy asked. 

Harry wanted to lie, wanted to tell him yes, of course, wanted to say something to Malfoy that would take some of the fear out of his shoulders and desperation from his eyes. 

But Harry couldn’t lie, not to Malfoy, not like this. “I really don’t know. But I really want it to.” 

Without giving it much thought, Harry reached out and took Malfoy’s hand in his own, giving it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. 

Malfoy turned his head and looked at Harry, but Harry kept his eyes firmly on the garden outside of the window. After a moment Malfoy squeezed his hand back and let go. He left the window and went stand closer to the table. 

“Alright, do you want to start or should I?” Malfoy asked when Harry finally faced him. 

“I guess you.”

“Great- the Weasley’s are poor,” Malfoy said. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not anymore.”

“Okay, fine the Weasley’s are poorer than  _ me _ .” 

“Malfoy, honestly? Who isn’t?” Harry wanted to laugh, but he schooled his face. 

“Yes, that’s a good point,” Malfoy said thoughtfully. “Oh, I know, Ginevra Weasley is an idiotic little bitch.”

Harry prickled at that. “Don’t talk about Ginny like that.” 

“Ever the hero, Potter. Can’t even badmouth the girl who dumped him. What kind of imbecile breaks up with the savior? Worse yet, what kind defends them afterward?”

“It was a mutual decision,” Harry said offhandedly. 

Malfoy continued, pretending he hadn’t heard Harry. “It’s no surprise really, look at the rest of her family, not the brightest of the bunch. Father obsessed with muggles, two that run a joke shop, and one that became friends with  _ you, _ another off probably fucking dragons or something equally backwater.” 

“At least her family  _ loves  _ her,” Harry bit out. “At least her family is there for her. Where’s yours? Oh, that’s right, daddy’s in Azkaban and mummy’s fucked off to France.” 

Malfoy crossed his arms. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Uhm, I would very much have to say theirs, Malfoy. You’re lucky you’re not in Azkaban with your father! If I hadn’t-”

“If you hadn’t what?” Malfoy interrupted, “If you hadn’t begged the Wizengamot to be lenient, I’d be there too. I’m  _ aware _ , Potter.” He pitched his voice higher and sneered, “The Great Harry Potter, come to save Draco Malfoy again.” 

“It’s not my fault if you can’t take care of yourself! Maybe I should have let them throw you in Azkaban!” Harry shouted. He could feel the fury rising, the anger driving out the cold in his bones. “Thus far it’s been more trouble than it was worth!”

“Well, who asked you to do that? Because I sure as fuck didn’t!”

“Right, I should I have just let them throw you in Azkaban for the rest of your miserable little life!” 

“Come on, you can do better than that, Potter!” Malfoy shouted, grabbing Harry by the front of his shirt. “Say what you really mean!” 

Harry stared up at Malfoy, angrier than he could remember being in a long time. He was shivering with emotion and the words bubbled up out of him before he could stop them, coming out icy-hot and soft like a snake in the grass. “I should have left you in that fire.” 

Malfoy took a step back and behind him, Harry saw it. 

They had been so caught up arguing that they hadn’t heard, hadn’t felt the Rage enter. It didn’t change this time, it stayed faceless and unmoving behind Malfoy. Harry realised it was already feeding on Malfoy. How long had it been there?

Harry reached out to pull Malfoy back, but when he saw the look in his eyes he faltered.

“This is your fault,” Malfoy whispered. “I’m going to die and it’s your fault.” 

He looked back at the creature and stumbled back when he found himself staring back. 

“It’s all your fault,” Malfoy kept saying over and over. 

Harry shut his eyes and shook his head, trying to block out Malfoy’s words. This wasn’t real, he knew it wasn’t, but Malfoy was right this was his fault. 

When Harry opened his eyes again, his own face was just inches away. His clone raised its hand towards Harry’s heart and pointed. Harry watched impassively as the Rage began to take from him, happy to have the cold disappear. 

Behind his clone, something caught Harry’s attention. Malfoy was lying on the floor, unmoving, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

Panic rose like vomit in his throat and he surged forward; his clone jumped out of the way. 

“Malfoy!” Harry grabbed his shoulders and hauled him up. Malfoy’s head lolled back, eyes still open and unseeing. “Oh God, no, Draco, please.” Harry shook him a bit. Malfoy didn’t react and Harry pulled frantically at the collar of Malfoy’s shirt.  

“Please don’t be dead,” Harry whispered as he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on his neck. Heat burst from the pads of his fingers and spread to the rest of his body when he felt the heartbeat, faint but there. “Oh thank God!” 

Harry heard the Rage scream, but when he turned to face it, it was gone. In his arms, Draco’s heartbeat returned to normal and he blinked a few times before turning to Harry.

“Of course,” he whispered. Harry wanted to ask what, but Malfoy’s eyes closed and his head fell back once more. He would have been afraid, but he could still feel Malfoy’s pulse underneath his fingers. 

Harry sagged over Malfoy’s body, trying to catch his breath and figure out what to do next. He was too tired to move either of them, so instead he summoned a blanket and threw it over Malfoy, then pulled a chair from the table behind him and transfigured it into a cushion. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, letting Malfoy’s head rest in his lap. 

He tried to sleep, but there was an anxious feeling biting at his nerves. What if while he was asleep something happened to Draco? He put his hand over Malfoy’s chest and felt for his heart. He fell asleep like that, Malfoy’s heart beating warmth into his fingers.

—

It was dark when Harry woke up. Malfoy was still sleeping in his lap, and even though he could feel Malfoy’s heart beating he still took out his wand and cast a vitals check. Satisfied that Malfoy was alive, Harry put his wand away. 

He wondered if he should try to wake Malfoy up, maybe get him to eat something, take a shower, or maybe even put the wireless on, pretend like everything was normal for a few hours. But that soft look was back on Malfoy’s face, and Harry was loathe to be the one to remove it. 

He remembered the look on Draco’s face when Harry said he should have left him in the fiendfyre. Hurt of course, but as if he was expecting it. It must have been the Rage that had made Harry say that, because he  _ didn’t _ regret saving Malfoy. Which meant that Harry saying it was Malfoy’s fear. 

It made sense. Harry knew what Lucius was like; he imagined perfection was always demanded from Malfoy, he long ago understood why Malfoy did what he did. He understood what it was like to have expectations you couldn’t meet, the shame and the guilt of not living up to people’s dreams for you, ideas of you. Even so, Harry was inexplicably angry that Malfoy could still feel like he wasn’t worthy of being saved, after all this time. 

Draco had paid his reparations and then some. What was more, he was a pioneer in the mental health potion industry. He had been able to successfully create three potions that helped with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Potions that had helped so many people Harry knew, himself included.  

He had talked to Malfoy about it once, at some Ministry function where for some reason they were the only two people in the room under the age of 92. Harry had asked him about it, congratulated him, and Malfoy had snorted, saying he only did it for the money. Harry had gotten annoyed and they stopped talking about it. 

Harry had a hard time believing that now. He pushed the hair off of Malfoy’s head and let himself run his fingers through the soft hair. “I don’t regret saving you,” he whispered. “I know I should tell you this while you’re awake, but I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” His hand moved down from Malfoy’s hair to cup his cheek. Malfoy didn’t move. Harry sighed and moved his hand back to cradle Draco’s head, picking it up and sliding out from underneath him. He moved the cushion underneath Malfoy’s head and stood up. 

He hadn’t showered in days and refreshing charms just weren’t cutting it. 

After his shower, Harry didn’t feel like putting his Auror uniform back on. Instead, he threw on a robe from the linen closet and gathered up his uniform heading for the laundry room off of the kitchen he’d seen earlier. Hopefully there were some cleaner clothes in there. 

Harry flicked his wand at the lights in the laundry and set down his bundle. In the corner he could see a stack of neatly folded clothes. He and Draco were about the same size, though admittedly Malfoy was a bit taller and skinnier. Hopefully, something here would fit. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile to himself as he rifled through the stack, everything posh and pressed, didn’t Draco own a single pair of joggers? Finally, he settled on a navy blue jumper that he thought would fit, and a pair of jeans that looked like they had never been worn. 

He felt a little weird about putting on Malfoy’s boxer-briefs, it felt a bit intimate but he couldn’t be too bothered about it right now. He couldn’t stand to put his own back on. The jeans were a tad too long and a bit too tight on thighs, but alright on the waist. The jumper was tight on his chest, but long everywhere else. Why did Malfoy have such weirdly long limbs, he thought. 

Harry was just pulling socks on when the light flickered, he turned and the door slammed shut. 

His wand was out in an instant and he was wrenching the door open, Malfoy’s name on his lips. 

When he entered the library he saw the Rage hovered over Draco, feeding. 

“No!” Harry shouted and the Rage looked up, almost startled. Its mouth pulled back to reveal hundreds of sharp grey teeth and it screeched. Harry pointed his wand at it, but a long hand shot out from the creature’s robe and knocked it away. 

It seemed to grin at Harry then  and turned its attention back to Draco’s prone body. 

“Get away from him!” Harry yelled, charging full force at the Rage. It jumped back before Harry could reach it, screeching again. 

Harry threw his body over Draco’s and stuck out his hand to summon his wand. The Rage regarded him carefully, leaning down to get a good look at Harry’s face. It was so close Harry could smell its breath, the strong stench of rotting flowers making his head spin. But Harry didn’t look away, he glared at it, wand pointed straight at its face. 

Suddenly it screamed, the force of it knocking Harry back, and by the time he sat up, it had disappeared. 

Harry scrambled off Draco and checked to make sure he was alive. He cast a vitals check and saw that Draco’s heart was beating erratically. Should he take him to St. Mungo’s? But if the Rage followed them there it would be a frenzy. No, he needed someone to come to him. 

Harry gave Draco’s hand a squeeze before heading to the fireplace, praying for floo powder. He didn’t have much time to be thankful that there was some there as he threw it in and put his head in the flames. 

“Hermione!” he shouted, “Ron!”

“Harry?” He heard footsteps and Hermione appeared, trailed by Ron. 

“Come through, quickly!” 

“Harry, what’s wrong?” 

“Just come through!” Harry pulled his head out of the flames and went back to Draco on the floor, opening his shirt as if he would find a physical wound to fix.  

“Oh my God,” Hermione gasped when she saw them. 

“Is he…dead?” Ron asked. 

“No!” It came out louder than intended and both Hermione and Ron looked at him in surprise. “But I think he’s dying and I don’t know what to do.” 

Hermione kneeled on the other side of Draco’s body, putting her hair up and telling Ron to find Draco’s potions lab and bring any potion that looked helpful. Ron didn’t need to be told twice. 

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know,” Harry murmured. “The Rage…it feeds on you. You can see it, like a Kiss. But earlier today it came and it took and Draco was asleep, but I thought…I thought we were safe and I went to take a shower and it was so stupid and he was still asleep but then something happened and when I came back in here it was here and it was feeding again. I don’t think Draco even woke up.” 

Hermione nodded. “Okay, let’s get him up on the table so I can have a better look.”

Harry stood and flicked his wand at the table, casting all of the books and papers and ink to the floor. Draco could yell at him about it later, he didn’t care. They levitated Draco’s body on the table, and Hermione cast a cushioning charm beneath him. 

Ron returned arms full of potions and almost overflowing. “I’m not sure exactly what these do, but there’s at least a blood replenishing one?” 

“It can’t hurt,” Hermione said taking some potions from the pile in Ron’s arms. “Are there any calming draughts?” 

“Yeah.” Ron set the potions down and cast a look at Harry who was holding Draco’s wrist and staring at his face. “So what happened?” he said quietly to Hermione. 

Hermione looked from Harry back to Ron and motioned for him to come closer. Harry looked up and saw them whispering, heads close together, shooting him worried glances. 

“Are you going to help or not?” He asked angrily. He couldn’t be bothered to ask what they were hiding right now, not when Draco was still passed out on the table. 

Ron and Hermione pulled apart, looking decidedly ashamed. 

“I need you to hold him up,” Hermione instructed. “Tip his head back so I can give him this potion.” 

Ron held Draco’s torso up, while Harry held his head and Hermione poured the potion down his throat. He somehow became even more boneless than before. 

“What was that?” Harry panicked, feeling for Draco’s pulse. 

“A calming draught. It should help his heartbeat level out,” Hermione said evenly, searching for more potions. “Lay him back down.” 

They did as they were told, but Harry kept his hand firmly around Draco’s wrist. 

“What should we do now?” Harry asked, looking between his friends quickly. 

“We should probably wait a few minutes before we give him anything else?” Ron hedged. 

“Perhaps we should try to wake him up without a potion?” Hermione suggested. 

“Good idea,” Ron said and before anyone could stop him he pulled out his wand and cast an  _ Aguamenti _ straight in Draco’s face. 

“Ron!” Hermione and Harry shouted at the same time Draco sat straight up gasping. 

“What?” Ron threw a hand out towards Draco. “It worked!” 

Hermione glared at him before turning back to a spluttering Draco and Harry was rubbing his back and murmuring reassurances. 

Draco blinked several times, head swiveling between Hermione, Ron, and then Harry, panic etched on his face. 

“This is real,” Harry reassured. “You’re safe, Draco.” 

Draco looked like he wanted to protest, but he looked down at Harry’s hand circling his wrist, and twisted his arms so he could hold Harry’s. “Real,” he whispered. 

Harry nodded and gave him a small smile. Draco sagged in relief, body slumping into Harry’s chest. 

“Potter, are you wearing my clothes?” 

Harry laughed and held him close, ignoring the way Ron and Hermione looked at him, and the way his body sang with heat in every place Draco was touching him. 

—

Harry asked Hermione and Ron to fix them something to eat while he went with Draco upstairs to change. 

“I can go by myself,” Draco insisted. 

“I am  _ not _ leaving you alone again, so you can just shove it.”

Draco rolled his eyes and looked at Ron and Hermione. “Can you do something about your friend?” 

“Nope.” Ron grinned and Draco went out the door with a huff, Harry trailing behind him. 

“Are you really alright?” Harry asked when they were out in the hall. 

Draco looked like he wanted to lie for a moment, but then thought better of it. “I really don’t know. I don’t feel hurt…just tired and cold. Maybe this is what dying feels like, maybe I’ve been dying all along.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry demanded, grabbing Draco by the arm. Draco faltered and turned to Harry, face almost unreadable in the dim hallway. Harry stepped closer, his other hand coming up to hold Draco’s other arm. “Please don’t say that,” He repeated in a whisper. 

Draco moved so he was gripping Harry’s arms as well, staring at Harry with a question in his eyes. 

Harry answered, he pulled gently at Draco’s arms, and then they were kissing, hands snaking up backs, fingers digging into skin, arms wrapped around waists. 

Kissing Draco felt like resolution. Revolution. Resignation. It felt like every moment of his life had led him to this, to threading his hands in Draco’s and pulling him close, his tongue in his mouth as if it could chase away whatever was hurting him. 

Harry’s back hit the wall, and he hadn’t even realised they were moving. Instinctively he lifted a leg and wrapped it around Draco and rolled his hips. Draco groaned and reached down and grabbed Harry’s ass, hauling him up. Harry wound his legs around Draco, desperately trying to get more anything in contact with his rapidly hardening prick. Every place he touched Draco was on fire and Harry was ready to burn. 

Without warning, Draco pulled away. Harry could see the anxiety in his eyes and moved his hand to keep Draco’s forehead pressed against his. 

“Draco,” He whispered. “It’s okay, I’m real, I promise. You can feel me, can’t you?” Draco swallowed, nodded against Harry’s forehead. Harry sighed, and wiggled his hips to get Draco to let him down. 

When Harry was standing again, Draco refused to look at him. “Hey,” Harry said softly, reaching for Draco’s hand, but Draco jerked it away. 

“My room is this way if you still insist on treating me like a child,” Draco snapped and turned on his heel.

Harry knew he shouldn’t be angry, but he was. One tiny display of emotion and they were back to this? Harry stomped after him, trying not to sulk. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Draco instructed when they entered his room. 

“When was the last time anyone did?” Harry asked, taking in the dust covered furniture and unused bed. 

“I was a little distracted being tortured by a dark creature that murdered my house elf. Sorry I didn’t have time to dust,” Draco snarked as he began to rifle through the wardrobe. 

“Draco,” Harry said tiredly. 

“Can I take my shower alone, or do you plan on giving me a hand?” How someone could be so condescending and lewd at one time, Harry would never know. 

Harry moved his glasses out of the way to pinch to the bridge of his nose. “No, just leave the door open.” 

When Harry looked up Draco was staring at him with a murderous look. “Fine,” he spat and went inside. 

Harry heard the water turn on and Draco’s clothes hit the floor and willed himself not to think about what Draco looked like naked and wet. 

He sat down at the desk on the other side of the room to wait. 

—

When Harry and Draco came into the kitchen, even Ron felt the shift in their demeanor. 

“Alright?” Ron asked. 

“Dandy,” Draco replied, sitting down at the table. “Not only is there a dark creature roaming my house, now I have to deal with the Golden Trio.” 

“Huh, that’s a funny way to say ‘thank you,’” Ron sneered. 

Hermione interjected before Draco could open his mouth, “Malfoy, have some tea.” 

“I don’t want any tea,” Draco huffed. 

“For God’s sake,” Harry snapped taking the kettle from Hermione and making Draco’s tea. “Just drink the fucking tea and shut  _ up _ .” 

Draco glared at him but took the tea anyway. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “I know you must be tired, but do you think you could tell us what happened?”

“Not really, as I was kind of unconscious for the whole thing.” 

Ron rolled his eyes and Hermione took a deep breath and pressed on. “Yes, but while you were unconscious do you remember hearing anything or dreaming at all?”

Draco’s eyes flicked to Harry briefly and then back to Hermione. “Can’t say I remember hearing anything. But I was dreaming, I remember that.” 

“Dreaming about what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do mind,” Draco said, setting his cup down, and crossing his arms. “It’s…personal.”

“Alright,” Hermione conceded. 

“Well, how did the whole thing start?” Ron asked. “I mean, I know in general what the Rage does, but what happened that Malfoy was out for so long?” 

“Well,” Harry began. “The Rage came and it can shapeshift into other people. So it was me and I-” Harry cleared his throat. “I killed him.” 

“Killed who?” Ron asked. 

“Draco,” Harry whispered, staring at the table. 

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly, putting her hand on his arm. 

“It wasn’t real,” Draco said placidly. 

“Merlin, Malfoy, can you just — ,” Ron started, but stopped when Hermione shook her head. 

“What happened next?” 

“I saw Draco on the floor and I thought he really was dead, so I went check and, when I realised he wasn’t, the Rage sort of screamed and disappeared.” He turned to Draco. “And you looked at me and you said ‘Of course,’ but nothing else.”

Hermione hummed and Ron asked, “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure,” Draco admitted. 

“So, is that when you called us?”

Harry shook his head. “I left Draco in the library. I thought it would be okay, because he was still asleep, and I guess the Rage came back then. When I was in the laundry room it tried to lock me in, and when I got out it was feeding on Draco.” 

“Harry, and don’t take this the wrong way, but from what I’ve read the Rage comes when you sleep, so why would you leave Malfoy alone?” 

Harry stiffened, and Draco leaned forward, mouth pulled back in a snarl. “Because I told him it was okay.”

“But you were asleep?” Ron said.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Before that, Weasley. I know that you have as much common sense as you do money, but try to use some of it.” Ron squared his shoulders and looked ready to leap out of his chair at a moment’s notice.

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Hermione asked primly. “Malfoy, can you explain?”

Draco sighed, but relaxed. “The Rage doesn’t just come when you’re asleep, though that is its preferred method. But if you don’t sleep, it will come anyway. If it’s fed once, usually you’ll be fine for awhile, and you can sleep alright provided you take a Dreamless Sleep Draught.”

“I thought since it hadn’t been too long since the Rage had fed…and he was already asleep…” 

“It’s fine,” Draco said softly. 

“So when are the other times it comes out?” Hermione asked. 

“If it hasn’t fed in a while, it’ll come out whenever it senses strong negative emotions.” 

“Then Draco realised that it never shows you the same thing twice.”

“So, it can run out of a food source,” Hermione filled in. 

“Exactly,” Harry nodded. “Basically we wanted to speed the process up a bit so we had a fight to draw it out.” 

Ron made a choked noise and jumped up, his chair clattering to the ground. He grabbed Draco by the front of the shirt and punched him square in the nose, knocking him out of the chair. 

“Ron!” Hermione shouted. 

“What the fuck!” Harry yelled, moving to help Draco up. 

“He knew!” Ron shouted. “You fucking knew, Malfoy, and you- you still did it! If you want to die so badly, just do it yourself, don’t take Harry down with you!” 

“It’s not for him!” Draco yelled, his magic pushing Harry and Ron back. He got to his feet, wiping the blood from his nose on his sleeve. “It wouldn’t take him!” 

Ron surged forward again. “Oh yeah? How do you know? It killed your house elf didn’t it?”

“Because Harry can fight it!” Draco pushed Ron. “You think that I would have done it if he could have got hurt? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Weasley?” 

“Stop it!” Hermione shouted, but they ignored her. 

“Yes! I do think you’re fucking dumb enough to do it! Just like you were dumb enough to become a Death Eater!” 

Harry felt the cold before he heard the creaking, but it was too late to do anything. He knew the exact moment Draco realised it as well, because he froze as if Ron had petrified him. 

He heard Hermione gasp as the Rage appeared behind Draco, who was standing with his eyes squeezed shut. Ron stumbled backwards, fumbling for his wand, but dropping it just as quickly as he grasped it.

They watched opened mouthed as it moved in front of Draco, the room shimmering to replicate the dungeons below the manor. 

The creature looked at Harry, tilting its head the same way it had done earlier, then swivelled to look at Draco. When it turned around, it was wearing Draco’s face. 

The Rage Draco lifted a wand and pointed it at Hermione and said in a voice that sounded like Draco’s from another room, “ _ Crucio _ .” 

Harry made to grab at Hermione but missed. She screamed and fell to the ground, shaking. Ron started to attention and sprang towards Hermione, but only made it halfway before he was flipped upside down, and suspended in the air as spiders crawled out of the ceiling. He shrieked so loud it hurt. 

Harry rushed towards the Rage, but it easily side stepped him and he went crashing into the wall. When he flipped around he was bound to the wall. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron had passed out upside down, and the spiders had disappeared. To his left, Draco was crying as he braced himself into a corner, just out of arm's reach. 

“Draco,” Harry called out, reaching for his hand. Draco looked at him, and for a split second Harry thought he could reach him. But then the Rage was in front of him, wand pointed at his chest. Harry looked desperately at Draco, reaching out for the warmth he knew he’d find if he could just reach him.

The Rage turned to Draco, like it was trying to make sure he was watching. It grinned and whispered, “ _ Avada-,”  _

“Don’t!” Draco shouted, hurtling himself towards Harry and pushing him to the ground. Heat flooded through Harry like his veins were made of tinder. Above him, Draco’s face was candle wax dripping down the Rage’s face, until only its faceless head was revealed. 

The Rage turned its head at unnatural angles, examining them, that ominous creaking noise bubbling up from its throat. The indentations that served as eyes collapsed in on themselves, leaving two empty black holes. It raised a pointed finger at them.

“Don’t hurt him,” Draco growled and Harry felt a punch of heat steaming out of his every pore. 

The Rage peeled its mouth back, its grey teeth growing, and it shrieked so loud it shattered Harry’s glasses. When Harry could see again, the Rage was gone. 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked as Draco struggled to his feet. 

“Yes, I’m fine, I-are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need to see if Ron is okay, can you check on Hermione?” Harry asked, already moving towards Ron’s suspended body. 

Harry gently levitated Ron to the floor while Draco kneeled down help Hermione. When he first touched her, she shrank away, and then flushed in embarrassment. Harry heard Draco murmuring before Hermione finally let him help her up. 

Harry shook Ron awake and he sat up with a jolt. “Where’s ‘Mione?” He cried, grabbing at Harry.

“I’m here, Ron.” Hermione’s voice was shaky as she walked towards them. “I’m alright.” 

Ron surged up and pulled her into his arms, patting her down to check that she was still in one place, while she whispered reassurances to him. 

Harry moved back to stand near Draco who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. 

“Maybe they should go,” Draco said to Harry after a few tense moments. 

“No,” Hermione decreed, extracting herself from Ron. “Not after we’ve seen what that thing can do. We can’t leave you two here.” 

“Hermione, you were just Crucioed. And there’s no telling when this thing will show back up now.” 

“You should rest,” Ron interjected. “Please.” 

“I’m not a child!” Hermione shouted. “I can take care of myself. You can leave if you want to, Ronald, but  _ I’m _ staying.” 

“This would have never happened if Malfoy had just fucking dealt with this himself,” Ron growled. 

“How is this  _ my _ fault? I didn’t force Golden Boy to stay,” Draco snapped back. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t fucking tell him the truth either, did you?” Ron was moving towards Draco with intent, Hermione shouting for him to stop. 

A crash had them all turning to Harry, broken teacups at his feet, seething. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” 

“He knows,” Ron hissed. “He can tell you.” 

“It’s just an old wives’ tale,” Draco said. 

“The hell it is!” Ron shouted, and Harry screamed in frustration. Ron looked apologetically at Harry and then said to Draco, “Fine, I’ll tell him, you fucking coward.” 

“Why don’t we all sit down and calm down for a second?” Hermione offered. 

“A grand idea,” Harry bit out and sat down, arms crossed looking at Ron and Draco expectantly. 

Once everyone was seated Hermione asked, “Is this about the old story? Regina’s Rage?” Ron nodded. “It’s not…” 

“No, it’s not,” Ron interjected and Hermione shot a look to Draco was very intently studying the table. 

“Well I am so fucking glad that everyone else seems to have an idea of what’s going on, that must be fucking nice.” 

Ron huffed glaring at Draco as he spoke. “Regina’s Rage is an old story. It’s about a girl who was angry all the time; they took her wand because she had committed a terrible crime, and she held grudges against everyone. A lot of people think the story is just a way to get kids to learn how to let stuff go, just something to scare your kids into forgiving people. But it’s  _ not _ .” 

“Regina was real,” Draco said. “The story fell out of favour centuries ago, because children were scared to be angry and people were worried about creating an obscurus, plus the Rage was so rare anyway. But purebloods…”

Ron picked up when Draco trailed off. “Purebloods think it helps kids become emotionless little dolls that they can mould into whatever they want.” 

Draco glared at Ron, but didn’t deny it. 

Harry remembered when they had first talked about drawing the Rage out. “You knew and you…you said  _ you _ could end it? That’s what you meant? You were just going to let it kill you and let me help?” Harry felt dizzy. He couldn’t sit here, he needed to do something. 

Harry stood up shakily, Hermione and Ron looking concerned and Draco pointedly not looking at him.

“I need air,” Harry told them, waving them off. He stumbled to the kitchen side door and out. He just managed to close the door when he fell to his hands and knees, hands scrabbling at the dewy grass.

He gasped, forcing himself upright as he struggled for breath. His lungs felt tight, too full and too empty all at once, and his vision was blurring. He counted his breaths, and when he could finally breathe again he lay back, eyes closed, visualising the air coming in and out. Even the brisk Spring air felt warmer than inside the manor. 

Harry didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when Draco sat down beside him. Harry sat up catching sight of Draco’s face, raw and vulnerable in the blue of the morning light. Harry felt his anger softening, and looked away so as not to be swayed from his completely justified irritation. 

“I don’t remember the last time I went outside,” Draco finally said. Harry looked at him out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. “There’re too many uncontrolled elements. The noise, the people, the weather. Anytime I hear that creaking or I feel a chill, I get scared. I know it’s coming and there’s nothing I can do about it.

“When it first started happening, I was outside. I was at some cafe and when I walked in, everyone looked at me and laughed. I didn’t know what was happening but when I turned around it was there, not fully formed, just like an outline. I didn’t know what it was at first. But it kept getting worse and worse and it got stronger and stronger. By the time it was clearly visible I hadn’t left here in weeks.” 

Draco leaned back onto one hand, and threaded his fingers through the grass with the other. “I know I should have told you, but I promise that if I thought for a second that it would take you too, I wouldn’t have done it.” 

Harry turned to look at Draco. “That’s not the point,” he hissed. “I’m not afraid to die. But I’m sure as fuck not going to go without a fight and for you to just- just- and let me think that I was  _ helping  _ you? Do you have any idea what it would have been like if you had succeeded?” 

“I reckon you’d have a nice dose of survivor’s guilt,” Draco offered. 

“For fuck’s sake, Draco!” 

Draco sighed and picked at the grass. “Sorry. I guess I just gave up.” 

Harry scrunched up his nose. “Gave up? That’s not who you are.” 

“Yes. It is,” Draco said softly. “Take the easy way out. That’s always who I’ve been.” 

Harry was quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. He didn’t know what to say to Draco to make him understand that Harry knew he could fight this. That Harry knew he was stronger than this. Instead, he reached over and put his hand over Draco’s giving it a light squeeze. Draco looked at him, his gaze soft and unfamiliar.   

“You’re not doing this alone,” Harry said finally. 

“I…I know,” Draco replied, and Harry believed him. 

Harry got to his feet, pulling Draco with him. “Let’s go back inside before Ron and Hermione come to check on us.” 

When they went inside they were greeted with the unnatural silence that was only found upon entering a room where you were the subject of conversation. 

“Is everything okay?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s going to be,” Harry told her. “How are you two holding up?”

“We’re fine, Harry, really.” Hermione looked to Ron. “Ronald has something he would like to say.” 

Ron snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I punched you, Malfoy,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that,” Draco taunted. 

“ _ Draco _ ,” Harry said just as Ron pushed back in his chair, looking ready to go again. 

“Oh, alright, apology accepted Weasley,” Draco relented. “I suppose I can see why you did it.” 

There was a pause before Hermione said, “I think that’s the best we’re going to get.” to Harry. 

“Isn’t this lovely,” Draco said sitting down. “All three people who have ever punched me in the face in one room together, discussing my impending doom.” 

“You can’t mean we’re the  _ only _ people have punched you in the face,” Ron said with barely contained laughter. 

“Sod off Weasley, Granger punches harder than you.” 

Ron snorted, “I know.” Ron seemed to realise what he said and looked at Draco in horror which caused Draco to laugh. A moment later Ron was clutching his stomach with tears in his eyes letting out big belly laughs while Draco clapped his hands in mirth. Hermione and Harry looked at each other before bursting into laughter as well. 

“Well this is officially surreal,” Hermione said once they had all caught their breaths.   

“What isn’t with you three?” Draco asked. 

“Not much, really,” Harry replied. 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed, and everyone looked at her. “Oh, Harry, Malfoy said earlier that you could fight the Rage, but how did you do that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t like attack it or anything. I think he just meant that I could like…shake it off?” 

“Tell me how exactly,” she urged. 

Harry ran a hand through his hair trying to think. “I don’t know. It’s like, you know how it’s so cold in here? When the Rage comes it kind of makes you feel warm, I guess so you don’t try to fight it? But when I realised it wasn’t real or whatever, I’d kind of get, like, hot? And it would yell and go.” 

“You would just have to think it wasn’t real and it would leave.” 

“No,” Draco said slowly, and Harry could see him picking up Hermione’s train of thought. “When I was out and he grabbed me…That’s it!” 

“The ‘of course?’” Hermione asked, excitedly. 

“Yes, the of course, how could I have been so stupid!” Draco stood up and rushed out of the room. 

“I don’t understand,” Ron said flatly as Hermione went after him. 

“I guess we better go find out,” Harry said getting to his feet. 

When he and Ron entered the library Draco and Hermione had their heads bent over a book and were talking in half sentences. 

“I think they cracked it,” Harry said. 

“It’s hope!” Hermione exclaimed. “When the Rage was attacking you each time it went away was because when you realised you weren’t alone, you had hope! That’s what can fight it!”

Draco continued, “It’s not sadness or anger or whatever the Rage is really after, it’s hopelessness. Because people who don’t have hope don’t have any will to fight it.” 

“So when Malfoy was alone it was easy to feel like he’d never get rid of it, but then Harry came,” Hermione explained. “And Harry is…well, he’s  _ Harry _ .” She shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“Well, that’s all great, but what do we do with this information?” Ron asked. 

“We have to draw it out again and show it that Draco has hope,” Harry said without hesitation and everyone groaned. “What?” 

“Potter, do you have to be such a Gryffindor all the time?” 

“Well, what else are we going to do?” Harry looked at everyone expectantly. “Just wait for it to come and  _ then _ show it that Draco has hope?” 

“How would you even show that Malfoy had hope?” Ron asked. “I mean, I don’t think it’s just gonna fuck off because Malfoy doesn’t think he’s gonna die all of a sudden, otherwise it would have already, wouldn’t it?” 

“Ron’s right,” Hermione said. “There’s got to be a ritual or something that…” she trailed off as she started shuffling through Draco’s things, but neither Harry nor Draco were paying attention to her. 

“I need to talk to Potter for a moment,” Draco announced, grabbing Harry’s arm as he walked toward the door, leaving Ron to look after them with a pained expression on his face. 

In the hallway, neither of them said anything for a moment. Draco took a deep breath and let the words come out in a rush. “I like you.” 

Harry didn’t know what he expected Draco to say, but that wasn’t it. “What?” 

Draco groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Merlin, Potter, can you not make this any harder than it is?” 

“Sorry, it’s just I didn’t think you were going to say that and I mean, I’m glad you said it because, uhm, I like you too? I just- you surprised me.” 

Draco looked up and saw Harry fidgeting with the edge of his sweater. Draco reached out and stilled Harry’s hands. “How much do you like me?” 

“I mean, I did basically break into your house and refuse to leave until I could free you from the clutches of a monster, so…” 

“Yeah, but who wouldn’t you do that for?” Draco asked seriously. 

“A lot of people. I could have sent an Unspeakable or something, that’s what Hermione wanted me to do, but I didn’t…I didn’t trust them to help you,” Harry admitted. 

“I have an idea, but it’s a little unorthodox.” Harry nodded for him to continue. “Well, you know how love has magical properties?” 

“More than most,” Harry commented. 

Draco huffed but continued as if Harry hadn’t said anything. “I think that we should  _ show  _ the Rage we like each other.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “You want to fuck in front of a demon?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t put it like that,” Draco groused, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Harry wanted to laugh, but he knew Draco was being serious. “And how would you put it?”

“I would say we are physically showing our affection for each other in the presence of a demon.” 

Harry did laugh then, and Draco glared at him. “I’m sorry, it’s just not how I pictured this going at all.” 

Draco turned on his heel. “Forget it, Potter,” he spat. 

Harry grabbed him and spun him around, pressing a kiss to his lips before Draco could protest at the manhandling. 

The kiss was soft and forgiving and when they parted, Harry was smiling. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” Harry told him. 

“I know it’s not exactly how first times go, but you’re Harry Potter, so you should be used to it.” 

“As far as weird shit that’s happened to me, making love to my new boyfriend in front of a creature that’s trying to devour his soul is pretty low on the list.” 

Draco groaned and pulled away. “Don’t say that.” 

“Say what?” Harry laughed. 

“All of it,” Draco said walking away. 

“What do you prefer? Beau? Lover? My young man? Suitor? ” 

“Stop,” Draco pleaded. “Boyfriend is fine. Just the making love part, ugh.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“Everything,” Draco said as he walked back into the library. 

Hermione gave them a knowing look when she saw them, but simply said, “Figure it out?” 

“Yes, I think we have,” Draco replied. 

“Great, what’s the plan?” Ron asked. 

“The first part is you two leave,” Draco announced.

“Absolutely not, Malfoy.”

“You guys, the plan is risky as it is, I don’t need you two getting caught up in it again,” Harry beseeched. 

“At least tell us what the plan is,” Ron demanded. 

Draco grinned. “Well, if you really want to know,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, ignoring Harry’s cry of ‘Please, no.’ “Potter and I are going to, how did you put it? Fuck in front of a demon.” 

Ron made a noise that was not unlike a bird choking on a piece of bread, while Hermione looked thoughtful albeit a bit embarrassed. 

“Why in the name of Godric Gryffindor would you do that?” 

“It makes sense,” Hermione interjected, and Ron gave her a look that screamed ‘traitor.’ She continued on indignantly, “There’s magic in sex, Ronald, not that  _ you _ would know.” 

Harry choked, Draco burst out laughing, and Ron’s blush was so fierce it looked like a Weasley reunion.

“‘Mione,” he whined. 

“We’ll leave,” Hermione told Harry and Draco. “But I’m going to come back when you’re done. Are you going to try right away?” 

“I’m not sure,” Harry said and looked at Draco. 

“It’s already morning and it’s been a long night, to say the least.” Draco turned to Harry. “I think we should try to get some rest first.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.” She grabbed Harry by the hands. “I will come check on you. You’ve got 24 hours, and then I’m coming in, by  _ any _ means necessary.” 

“We’ll be fine, ‘Mione, I promise.” 

“Harry, you can’t know that,” she said softly. 

“You just have to trust me.”

Ron came over and Draco stepped away awkwardly. Ron clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Mate, you know that we trust you, but this isn’t exactly an enemy you can understand. Can’t get inside its head.” 

Harry bit his lip, trying to find the words to explain to his best friends how he knew this would work without everyone thinking he’d gone off the deep end. If what Draco and Hermione said was true, and this thing fed off of hopelessness, he knew that they could get rid of it. Because Harry knew it was cheesy and way too soon and that he was rushing into things as per usual, but when he looked at Draco, it felt like daybreak, his doubts paling in the morning light. Because if Harry was being honest with himself, it’d been a long time since he’d been sure of anything other than that he wanted to be with Draco Malfoy. 

But he couldn’t say any of this, so instead he smiled and said, “We’ll be careful. Promise.” 

Ron and Hermione were already arguing when they left through the Floo, and Harry couldn’t feel anything but affection for them. 

When they were alone, Harry felt a change in the air of the room, and for a split second, he thought they may to have  perform a little earlier than expected. But he realised it wasn’t cold he was feeling, but rather a thickness, he didn’t know what to do. 

Draco cleared his throat and Harry knew he could feel it too. “Perhaps we should get some sleep?” 

Yes, good plan,” Harry replied just a bit too quickly. “Should we take a Dreamless?” 

“That would be for the best.” 

“Great, lead the way,” Harry said, hand outstretched decisively. Draco gave him a small smile that Harry hadn’t seen before but said nothing. 

The walk to the guest room they had slept in earlier was short, but Harry felt like he’d climbed Mt. Everest by the time they got there. He knew that they weren’t going to have sex right now, but he also knew that they  _ were  _ going to have sex and the idea of sleeping next to Draco before that had set his nerves on fire. 

Draco sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes, that small smile from earlier still playing on his lips. Harry moved to do the same. The bottle of potion was still in the room, so Harry took a swig and twisted to offer some to Draco with a shaky hand. 

Draco grabbed his wrist and plucked the potion from his fingers with an eye-roll. “Something the matter, Potter?” he asked after taking a swig. 

“No, no, nothing at all. Just agreed to date the world’s biggest prat, who I have to shag in front of a mythical creature, but not before we literally sleep together.” Harry threw himself back on to the pillows and pulled the covers up around them. 

“Sounds awful, I wonder what that’s like.” 

Harry saw the look on Draco’s face and hurried to backtrack. “The thing is, he is a gigantic git, but I kind of like that about him?” Draco hmm’d and Harry continued, his hand reaching out for Draco’s. “But he’s also really smart, and funny, and he’s not afraid of me.” 

Draco snorted, but let his fingers twine with Harry’s. “Who’d be afraid of you?”

“Well historically speaking, mainly dark lords.” Harry turned and shot Draco a grin. Draco let out a groan that ended as a chuckle and soon they were both laughing. 

Harry fell asleep with laughter tingling on his lips, and the heat of Draco’s palm warming him to his toes. 

—

Harry woke feeling cold and panicked. He reached out for Draco but came up empty. Fumbling with his glasses and forgoing his boots, he stumbled out of the room calling for Draco. 

He was halfway down the hall when he smelled food. Harry found Draco in the kitchen, heating up beans on the stove. 

“Am I dreaming or are you cooking?”

“I told you I could manage,” Draco said without turning around. 

“Sure I shouldn’t be on the lookout for any dark creatures?”

Draco turned around pointed a wooden spoon at him. “You can make your own food if you’re going to be like that.”  Harry held his hands up in surrender and Draco went back to the beans. 

Harry set the table and when Draco thought the beans were done he looked at Harry expectantly. 

“I thought you said you could manage?” Harry asked with a quirked brow. 

Draco sniffed and walked to the table, “Cooking is one thing, but serving is another.” 

Harry rolled his eyes but picked up the pot of beans and set on the table.

“You’re not going to put them in a bowl?”

“I can put them in your lap if you like.” 

“The pot is fine,” Draco said, as if he were the one who’d made the decision. 

They were quiet for a few moments before Harry spoke. “I’m confused about something.”

“When aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, Draco, I have a real question.” 

“Alright, go ahead,” Draco relented. 

“So, if we’re going to, you know, have sex in front of the Rage, how are we going to like…keep it there? Because anytime it’s sensed hope it’s disappeared pretty quickly.” 

“Oh, that,” Draco said casually. “There’s a ritual that you can do to trap dark energy.” 

“What?” Harry lurched forward in his chair. “We could have had this thing trapped this whole time? And you just-”

“Calm down,” Draco interrupted. “It wouldn’t have done us any good.” He looked away. 

Harry leaned back and tried not to think about what happened when Draco had tried to trap it. “So, what’s the plan?” 

“We prepare for the ritual, we’ll need some space, so the ballroom might be best. Then we draw it out and have sex. Speaking of, do you have a preference?” 

“A preference for what?” 

Draco rolled his eyes, but there was affection behind it. “Top or bottom?”

“Oh!” Harry blushed. “Er, I guess bottom?” He tore at a slice of toast waiting for the inevitable taunt.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Potter, it’s an enjoyable position.”

Harry looked up with raised brows. “I’m not embarrassed about being a bottom, I’m embarrassed  _ talking _ about it.” 

“Fair enough,” Draco said, rising. “Finish up; I don’t want the Rage to catch us off guard.” He put his plate in the sink and walked out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder that he would be in the ballroom. 

Harry finished his food quickly and followed him. Draco was drawing lines on the floor of the ballroom when he entered. 

“What’s all this?” Harry asked. 

“Boundary magic,” Draco answered. “Can you summon a mattress? Unless you enjoy the feel of fucking on marble.” 

“No thanks,” Harry replied wrinkling his nose. He went out into the hall and summoned the mattress. Unsure how much room Draco would need he left it in the hall until he was sure where it should go. 

Inside the ballroom, Draco had drawn a circle large enough to be a room. “We want to give it plenty of space, otherwise it could realise it’s been trapped too early on.” He put the finishing touches on the design and stood up. “That should do it.” He held his hand towards the door and the mattress slid in stopping just before the circle. 

“We aren’t going to be in the circle?” Harry asked. 

“We will, but we have to activate it first,” Draco explained. “It’s best if you say this because it’ll work better with a wand.” 

“Oh,” Harry started. He still hadn’t given Draco back his wand. If there was ever a good time, this was it. “Actually,” he said and pulled Draco’s wand from the holster under his sleeve. 

Draco stared at him. 

“What?” Harry demanded when it was clear Draco wasn’t going to take it. “It’s yours, take it!”

“How long have you had this?”

“What do you mean? Since I took it from you, you were there.” Harry frowned. 

“No, I mean how long have you had it since this?” He waved his arm between them and around. “Do you just carry it all the time, like a second? Or did Granger and Weasley bring it to you?”

“Why does it matter?” Harry huffed. Why couldn’t Draco just take the wand and get it over with?

“It matters, Potter,” Draco spat. “How long have you had it?”

“Since I got here!” Harry exploded. “When you kicked me out the first time, I asked Hermione to bring it to me.” 

“So, this whole time you’ve had it and you didn’t think to give it to me until just now?” Draco’s eyes were clear and Harry took a step back, trying to get away from their intensity. 

“I didn’t know when would be a good time!”

“How about when I first let you back inside?” Draco yelled and Harry heard creaking. 

“Draco,” he started, but he went unheard. 

“Or literally anytime? You really don’t think I’m worthy of that wand, do you? Or is that you don’t trust me?” 

“Draco, please, the boundary!” Draco’s eyes widened and Harry knew the Rage had come. 

He felt his body turn as if pulled by strings. The Rage that greeted him was already baring its teeth, and the holes where its eyes should be were still there. 

He felt Draco moving behind him and suddenly there was an arm around his throat. 

“Draco,” he choked out. Draco dragged him back into the middle of the circle and the Rage followed. Harry struggled against him until he realised the Rage must be controlling him somehow. Harry turned Draco’s wand towards him and cast a wordless stinging hex. Draco jumped back and fell to the ground. The Rage shrieked. 

Harry gasped for breath and Draco blinked up at him from the floor like he’d just woken up. But when he saw the Rage, he jumped up and snatched his wand from Harry’s hand.  

Harry couldn’t hear the words Draco was saying over his own pulse in his ears and the Rage’s screams, but he knew Draco had activated the boundary when it turned red and faded again. 

The Rage grew quiet then, and Draco turned back to him. “Are you alright?” He put his hands on Harry’s face forcing him to look up and Harry leaned into the warmth his fingers provided. 

“I’m okay,” he rasped. 

Draco pulled Harry toward him and kissed him hard. He heard the Rage creaking behind him, but the only thing he could begin to care about right now was the heated apology Draco was currently licking into his mouth. He wound his arms around Draco’s waist, holding him in place. 

A shrill noise pulled them apart. The Rage had grown to tower over them. It paced back and forth but never came closer than it already was. 

“Now or never,” Harry whispered. 

Draco swallowed and nodded, held his hand out and summoned the mattress closer. “Best be quick about it.” 

Despite his words, he laid Harry down on the mattress with surprising gentleness, settling himself between Harry’s legs. “Do you know, when I woke up earlier and you were in my clothes I thought I had finally died. I didn’t think I could see something so good.”

“Draco.” Harry set their foreheads together, closed his eyes, and matched his breathing to Draco’s. Draco leaned forward and kissed him again. Harry heard the Rage huffing and snorting behind him and he remembered himself. He pulled away. “Is it okay if we keep our shirts on for now?” 

Draco nodded and vanished their bottom layers. Even with the presence of a soul-sucking demon and neither of them being exactly hard, Harry couldn’t deny how good it felt to have Draco’s dick touching his. Harry pushed his hips up to Draco’s and felt more heat and blood rush south. Draco answered him with a roll of his hips. 

They were fully hard by then and the Rage seemed to have noticed it had been trapped. It made a noise unlike Harry had ever heard it make before and thrashed its head back and forth. Draco stilled above him, eyes round and hesitant. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” he admitted. “I know it was my idea, but I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Harry soothed. “I know this isn’t ideal, but all you have to do is look at me. Listen to me, alright?” 

Draco nodded, so Harry picked up his wand and murmured the spell to prepare himself. He hooked his legs around Draco’s back and pressed. “I’m ready,” he said softly. 

Harry felt the gentle press of the head of Draco’s cock at his entrance and he squeezed his legs a little to encourage him further. He was rewarded with Draco seating himself fully within him. Harry was sure the little hairs on the back of his neck had singed off from the wave of heat that traveled up his spine. He arched into Draco, moaning. 

When Harry looked at the Rage he saw its mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. He realised the sound must have been too high pitched for him to hear. 

“You can move,” he told Draco. Draco pulled back and pushed back in, every thrust lightning hot. “Yes, that’s it, Draco. You’re doing so well.” 

The Rage moved into Draco’s line of sight, and his thrust faltered. “Harry,” he whispered. 

Harry reached up and forced Draco to look at him. “Look at me, you’re fucking me so good right now, don’t stop, okay?” Harry rolled his hips. Draco moaned and began to fuck him again. “Fuck,” Harry hissed. “Right there, just keep doing that, oh my god.” He reached between them and began to stroke his dick. 

“Merlin, you’ve no idea what you look like right now,” Draco breathed. “Like every wet dream I’ve ever had rolled into one. I could come just looking at you.”

“Yeah? Are you going to be good and come for me, Draco?” 

“So good,” Draco panted. “I’m going to be so good for you, Harry, I promise.” 

“Go ahead, Draco, show me how good you can be.” The jerking of his prick was frantic now, his orgasm crowning. 

Draco came and the pressure of it pushed Harry over the edge. He moaned, clawing at Draco’s back, squeezing his eyes shut against the blinding white light in front of him. 

When he opened his eyes again Draco was smiling at him. Draco pulled out gently and flopped down next to him. They both seemed to sense the pair of eyes on them at the same time. 

The Rage was within arms reach, the emptiness that had been its eyes was replaced by two red slits staring at them intently. Instinctively, Harry reached for Draco’s hand and intertwined their fingers. The rage flew back and screamed, shaking as if it were on fire. 

Just as suddenly, it was shrinking. The same slick substance that covered its skin was oozing out of its eyes and its paper-thin skin was peeling back to nothing. Its heavy black robes disintegrated and soon it withered away to nothing. 

“It’s gone,” Draco said in disbelief. He got up and stared at the spot where it once stood, almost as if he was willing it to come back. Harry came over to stand next to him. 

“Now what?” Harry asked. 

Draco grabbed him and pulled him close. “Now everything,” he said, eyes bright. Harry grinned and Draco captured his lips in a kiss that made Harry’s knees weak. And as the sun rose outside, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this warm. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come say hey on [tumblr](http://bangyababy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
